


Faster and Faster (I should run)

by lesbianbean



Series: you want the world/well what's it worth? [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ambition, American Politics, Angst, Anxiety, Backstory, Character Study, F/F, Impostor Syndrome, Multi, Revenge, Rule 63, Sisters, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, like all the ambition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbean/pseuds/lesbianbean
Summary: She's the daughter of the infamous Vos Airlines oligarchs, chief of staff to the Senate Majority Leader, and a ruthless "rising star in the political universe." What she is to herself is less clear.





	Faster and Faster (I should run)

Starscream’s eyes burned from the hours of staring at her laptop screen, and her muscles shrieked in agony when she tried to stretch. Skyfire had fallen asleep somewhere around midnight, sprawled out on the double bed she’d splurged on in her tattered “May the Mass Times Acceleration Be With You” shirt.  All she wanted was to take a hot shower and curl up next to her, but she still had a four-page essay on the upcoming session of Congress due for her stupid fucking political science class. Skyfire didn’t get why she was double majoring, but Starscream knew from years of watching her parents conduct meetings, that it would be helpful to have a business major with her major in chemical engineering. She wouldn’t be backed into a career corner.

The cursor blinked mockingly like it _knew_ she had no fucking idea what to write and she typed another nonsense sentence about bipartisanship and then deleted it, taking another swig of her now-lukewarm white chocolate mocha and randomly clicking on another clip from C-Span’s website.

“Madame Speaker, I rise today to speak in in opposition to the Infrastructure Renewal Act.” The chyron informed her that the woman speaking was Megatron, freshman congresswoman from Texas. She was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing an old-fashioned grey pantsuit. “This legislation is ineffective to the point of being actively dangerous, and I find my colleague from New York’s continued insistence that it is a necessity equally disturbing.” She nodded politely at Congresswoman Prime, the gesture somehow conveying an eternity of contempt. Her dark eyes were cold as steel as she tapped on the podium for emphasis, and even though the gesture was tiny Starscream felt like she could hear it reverberating through her chest.

Many of the southern politicians she’d heard before played up their accents, but the woman’s low voice was precise and clipped, without a hint of a drawl. She’d been in the Navy, Starscream read on the Wikipedia page, that might explain it. The video ended and she rewatched it before she could stop herself, her mouth dry for reasons she couldn’t entirely explain.

An hour later she’d written five pages on why the Infrastructure Renewal Act failed and had twelve different tabs about the congresswoman open on her computer. Megatron was an enigma--no one knew anything about her childhood, her shady combat record seemed to have a hundred unattributed stories tied to it, and for a freshman congresswoman, she’d gotten an impressive number of bills through the labyrinthian committees. Starscream’s heart was racing and she wasn’t sure why wasn’t sure if the sharp bright feeling in her chest when she watched the video of Megatron speaking for the fifth time was envy or excitement or desire or some cocktail mixture of all three. If she wanted to  _be_ Megatron, behind the podium holding the rapt gaze of a room full of powerful people or if she wanted Megatron to be looking at _her_ , to be the focus of the older woman's meticulous attention.

She hit print and closed her laptop with a sharp click.

* * *

 “I don’t get it.” Skyfire pulled out her earbuds and handed Starscream’s phone back to her. “She’s just a politician.”

“Yeah, but the way she completely dismantled that bill. Did you notice how she brought up the inequalities in Eisenhower’s highway system? And how that proposed renewal act doesn’t do anything to address the problems with the taxation model from the 1950s?”

“Yeah, I guess. But--I don’t know, Star. Isn’t this kind of nasty rhetoric why people hate Washington? Wouldn’t it have been better for her to try to come up with a compromise?”

Starscream rolled her eyes. “Skyfire, people don’t compromise on stuff like this. The bill was garbage. It needed to go down.”

Skyfire sighed. “This is why I hate politics.”

“Sometimes you have break a few eggs to make an omelet.”

Skyfire shook her head. “That’s not a good road to go down. You need to at least think about the means. Even if the ends are important.” She reached for her cold brew, accidentally picking up a beaker instead. Starscream reached over and swapped them before she poisoned herself and Skyfire laughed. “I miss you in Biochemistry,”

“It’s the double major life.” She pulled herself up to sit on the counter, leaning over to look at another beaker. “I can still help with this, though. Show me your notes.”

Skyfire’s face lit up and she pulled out her notebook, and the next few hours were a chemical-scented blur. They were walking over to the nearby pizza joint, debating the nuances of measuring pH, when Starscream pulled out her phone to look something up and saw that she had seven missed calls from Skywarp and three from Thundercracker, and one from her family lawyer, which made no sense at all. As she tried to clear the screen of alerts her phone rang again.

“Hold on Skyfire.” She answered her phone with a sigh. “Skywarp, I’m _busy_.”

“Starscream.” Something about her sister’s voice made her stop walking. Skyfire looked at her curiously.

“What? You sound weird”

“Starscream, it’s Mom and Dad. They—there was— “

Skyfire was looking at her phone and blood was draining from her face. “Star, the news, it’s all over the news—“

Starscream snatched her phone and saw the picture of the smoking crater in the Arizona desert, the plane’s crumpled wings with the Vos Airlines logo, saw the caption _no survivors_ and she was sinking to the ground, her legs suddenly boneless, and she could hear talking but she couldn’t understand it.

* * *

  _Among the casualties were the husband-wife duo who founded Vos Airlines in 1981. Often known as the “Bonnie and Clyde” of the business world--_

Starscream turned off the news, rummaging through the condolence baskets that had piled up in the foyer. She couldn’t stand most of her parent’s friends, but they seemed to have good taste in gifts. Her Blackberry rang again--her mother’s personal lawyer. She swallowed the handful of chocolate-covered cherries she’d popped in her mouth and picked up.

“Yes, this is Starscream.”

She took notes, settling down on the sleek leather couch and eying the expensive-looking bottle of tequila that a member of Alpha Chi Omega had sent, along with a faux-sympathetic note. Starscream didn’t remember her name, and she didn’t care.

Skywarp wandered downstairs about fifteen minutes later in her fluffy purple bathrobe, her braids pulled back in a ponytail. She stared blankly out at the San Francisco vista with red-rimmed eyes, not seeming to notice her twin. Starscream ignored her too, focusing on writing down the names of the people she needed to follow up with. The lawyer finally finished, offering her condolences, and Starscream thanked her as politely as she could before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Skywarp’s voice sounded hoarse.

“Lawyer. I’ve got two meetings tomorrow lined up to settle the issue of their will. They want to know if we want to keep the penthouse or liquidate it.”

Skywarp buried her face in her hands. “Oh God. Screamer, I hadn’t even thought--we can’t, right?”

“What exactly would we do with a penthouse? It’s a giant relic from the eighties built for those huge parties Mom and Dad like to throw. Liked to throw.” Something painful and sharp shot through her and she pushed it down. “Look, it’s easy money. At the very least we need to sublet it.”

Her sister’s shoulders started shaking and Starscream tried not to be irritated. “Oh god. God, I don’t--how the fuck did this even happen? The lawyers, the money--god, Screamer, what are we gonna do? I talked to Mom five minutes before the crash and she was fine, how can she be--can they be--”

Starscream had had enough. She stormed into the foyer and grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured two shots. “Drink up.” Her own went down smoothly, and warmth curled in her stomach. Skywarp looked at her shot glass like she didn’t understand what it was. “It’s good. Zafiro Añejo. Come on, ‘Warp.” She pushed it into her hands, and Skywarp drank, shuddering a little. Starscream poured two more. “Look. We’re all that’s left. We’re all that’s left of our family, and we’re all that’s left of Vos Airlines. And I’m not going to let what our parents built crumble around us and get eaten up by those fucking sharks who sent us this.” She gestured at the stack of condolence presents. “We’re going to get through this. And we’re not going to fall apart.”

Skywarp looked at her for a moment and then tossed back her next shot, squaring her shoulders.

“Okay.”

* * *

 Starscream knew the law office her parents frequented as well as her own apartment. The furniture ranged from off-white to beige, interspersed with sickly green succulents and a pathetically small meditation fountain supplemented by a much louder white noise machine. The policeman sitting across from them looked like he was worried he might stain something.

“Your parents--and again, I’m so sorry for your loss--”

“Just tell us.” Starscream took a sip of her mocha, barely tasting it. “Whatever the fuck you’re uncomfortable about, just tell us.”

“Screamer.” Skywarp squeezed her arm and she shook her off.

“What is it?”

“We’ve been looking at the wreckage, and it’s become evident that their deaths weren’t--well, they may not have been accidents. It appears that someone interfered with the engine.”

“You mean they were murdered. It was Tarn Industries, wasn’t it?”

“Well, we’re not sure--”

“Stop obfuscating.”

“All right. From what we can tell, we can’t rule out the theory, but we don’t know--”

“I get it.” She looked over at Skywarp, who was ripping a kleenex into smaller and smaller pieces. “You don’t know anything. Excuse me.”  
She stumbled into the bathroom, pressing her back against the door and biting down on her fist because otherwise she’d start screaming. Her heart was racing, fast as hummingbird’s wings, and she was-- _furious_ , her brain supplied-- _you’re angry, you idiot, this is what anger feels like_. Her head felt like it was full of static, the roar in her ears as loud as turbo engines, and they were dead, they were fucking dead, someone had fucking killed them and she wanted to burn the entire goddamn world down. The walls were getting closer, she could feel it. They’d crush her if she gave them enough time, they’d suffocate her and she couldn’t _breathe_ , there wasn’t enough air in the room and her lungs were closing up.

 _Get up, she told herself. They’re waiting for you and the longer you’re in here the weaker you’ll look. You’re better than this_. _Get up._

She steadied herself on the sink, making the mistake of looking at her reflection. Her dark skin was washed out by the fluorescents, and her eyes were hollow. She looked like a scared little girl, like something small to be brushed away, jettisoned, forgotten.

The glass cracked satisfyingly when she punched it, shattering into an irregular spiderweb that radiated out from her fist. Starscream didn’t look at the blood on her knuckles for too long, wrapping her hand in a paper towel before walking back into their lawyer’s office and pulling out her checkbook.

“For the mirror,” she explained to her dumbfounded lawyer, scooping up her purse. “Come on, ‘Warp. We’re leaving.”

* * *

 The plane crash was front page news in San Francisco for weeks. They left the newspapers in a stack by the door next to the elaborate gift baskets and cards without looking at them.

“You should probably talk to each other.” Skyfire said, pulling her laptop away so she had to look up at her. “I mean, I’m not a psychologist, but it seems like neither of you are handling this that well.”

“We’re fine. Now, are we going over the notes for this meeting or talking about feelings? Because I’m leaving if you want to talk about feelings.”

“Star, your parents _died_.”

“Yeah, so? We’re not the fucking Cleavers. I saw my mother like, twice last month, and both times were at airline events.” She grabbed the notebook. “We need to hurry, I have to be downtown at three.”

Skyfire sighed. “We’ve been working for hours. Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” Skyfire squeezed her hand, gently rubbing her thumb over the bandage on her knuckles and she was too tired to glare at her. “Stop worrying about me.”

“You can’t tell me not to care, Star.”

Starscream stood up, pulling her hand away. “I have to go. Do you want to come with me?” Skyfire opened her mouth and she cut her off before she could start. “We’re not talking about feelings, but I’ll let you play your music in the car.”

“Okay.” Skyfire put an arm around her as they waited for the elevator and she let herself enjoy the contact for a few precious seconds before the doors dinged open.

* * *

 “We want you to understand that this is nothing personal.” The contractor folded her hands in her lap, clearly trying to look respectful. It wasn’t a very believable facade, and neither was her artificially red hair. “We hold Vos Airlines in the highest regard, but we have deadlines we need to keep on track with.”

Starscream tried to keep her polite smile plastered on, although she suspected it looked more like a grimace.  

“I understand your concern, but I can assure you that my parent’s tragic death won’t affect our production. Vos Airlines doesn’t stop for anything.”

“We’re happy to hear that, of course,” The other contractor was wearing a truly hideous green pinstriped suit that he was not pulling off as effectively as he seemed to think he was. “But Tarn Industries has offered us a very promising deal and the existing contract we had with your parents is no longer valid, so you can understand why we’re deciding to pursue other options.”

“Believe me, I can promise you that if you maintain your contract with Vos Airlines you will not regret it.”

“Starscream, honey...” The contractor ran a hand through her red hair, giving her what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. It reminded Starscream of the time she’d chugged an entire Long Island Iced Tea on a dare from Skywarp at one of their parent’s parties on their ninth-grade summer vacation. She’d thrown it up in a plastic fern while Skywarp held her hair back, the sickly-sweet cola burning her throat and nose. “All due respect, but you’re not really in a position to be making promises. I know your parents let you sit in on some staff meetings and you’ve done some work in the private sector but you’re still a student.” She actually patted Starscream’s arm, and Starscream wanted to break her fingers. Black spots actually floated in front of her eyes and she clenched her fist so hard under the table that she felt the cuts on her knuckles break open.

 _Come on. Focus._ She took a sip of water to stall for time, trying not to choke on it. _Look at them. See what they want. Show them that you’re not just a stupid little girl. They’re here, aren’t they? They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want something. Find out what it is._

Red Hair had looked closely at their “Future Technology” display as Starscream had given them their complimentary tour, asking questions about their new jet design. Pinstripes wasn’t making eye contact with her now which either met he felt bad about this or he was the one who wanted it and Red Hair was just the bad cop. He was looking at the folder she’d left on the desk with “Washington” written on it. And the pieces clicked into place in her head.

“You don’t mean that.”

Red Hair looked at her, surprised. “I’m sorry?”

“You two don’t really want to cut off your contract with Vos. What you want is for me to give you a reason to tell your higher-ups to wait until we announce our partnership with the military. Tarn’s currently their first choice.” She uncrossed her legs and sat forward in her chair, placing one hand casually over the folder. “But _Tarn_ doesn’t have the top-of-the-line targeting computers I showed you. Tarn doesn’t have sonar tracking or satellite capability. They will in five years. Vos will have them in one. The problem you’re having is image.” Pinstripes opened his mouth and she hurried to finish. “If I could get the Pentagon to announce their new contract in four months from now instead of six, would you keep your partnership?”

Red Hair wasn’t smiling anymore. It made Starscream hate her a tiny bit less. “Three months.”

She held out her hand, her bracelets clinking. “Done.”

* * *

 The funeral was a nightmare, but it was a well-planned one. Skywarp was good at planning parties. She’d made a small fortune organizing birthdays and Bat and Bar Mitzvahs when they were in high school. Starscream was late—her flight from Washington landed a half hour before it started, and her limo took two wrong turns but it didn’t matter because she’d successfully renegotiated the contract.

“It’s done,” she whispered to Skywarp as she slid into her seat, and Skywarp squeezed her arm.

At the reception, the CEO of Tarn Industries shook her hand, squeezing so hard that Starscream’s rings dug into the still-healing cut on her knuckles and told her how _sorry_ she was for her _tragic_ loss, and Starscream smiled at her and thought _you have no idea what’s coming your way, bitch_.

As the reception wound down, she pulled Thundercracker aside and told her to look out for Skywarp and then took a cab back to the apartment, snatching a bottle of dessert wine off the table as she left.

She was halfway into her second episode of _Cutthroat Kitchen_ when the doorbell rang. Her immediate thought was that it was Skywarp and Thundercracker and she was almost grateful, even though it meant she’d need to share her wine. But when she opened the door it was Skyfire, still wearing the suit she’d worn to the funeral and a bag of unbelievably good smelling takeout under one arm.

“I brought your favorite. Green curry.”

“I’m not hungry.” Even as she said it, she realized she was starving. “Did Skywarp send you?”

“She texted me. Let me in, Star.”

“I don’t need handling.”

‘Warp said you’d say that, and to remind you that you handled her.”

“Ugh.” Not for the first time, it occurred to her that Skywarp might be smarter than she let on. “Fine. Come in.”

Skyfire began to unpack the bag as Starscream flopped back on the couch. “There’s a documentary on tonight about the history of the California Redwoods.”

“We’re watching Food Network and nothing else. You have to let me pick, my parents are dead.”

“All right. Just this once.”

Skyfire sat next to her as Alton Brown spoke, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Skyfire was always warm, practically a furnace, and she was so cold.

“Star.” Skyfire was looking at her.

“What?”

“You’re a million miles away.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come here.” An arm slipped around her waist, rubbing a circle on her lower back. “It’s okay to be sad.”

“I’m not. I’m not anything, Skyfire. I can’t feel anything. Is that what you want to hear?” Her hands were digging into her forearms, leaving little half-moons.

“There’s no right way to feel.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. I just want to feel something. Anything.”

Skyfire was stroking her hair and she tried to enjoy it, but she couldn’t get her body to relax. “Hey. You’re okay.”

“It wasn’t an accident. Someone killed them, and I can’t—I can’t even--”

“I’ve got you.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Skyfire’s vanilla shampoo. “I’ve got you, Star.” Skyfire gently squeezed her wrists, easing her hands free from their vice-like grip on her forearms, and pulled her closer, wrapping one of the fleece blankets scattered on the couch around her shoulders. It took what felt like hours for her muscles to unlock, but Skyfire didn’t seem to mind. She was so _good_ , Starscream thought, and not for the first time wondered why she was still here, why she hadn’t been driven away. She wondered how long it would be before she lost her.

* * *

Almost to the day five years later, Starscream watched the runway lights fall away and kept watching until San Francisco was completely gone from her window. Nearly everyone else in first class was asleep. It would be four hours until they landed in Ohio. She was going to meet with her first client, a state senator who had decided to run for Congress and was fifteen points behind in the polls.

Skyfire was in Greenland. She’d been given a grant to spend three years performing mineral extractions and studying the chemical composition of icebergs. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

And she would have given it up if Starscream had told her to stay. Starscream had wanted to. Throughout the last few weeks they had together she turned to her over and over again with the words on her tongue, but she never said them. Every time she thought about it, she remembered the look on Skyfire’s face as she talked about the chance to see ice cores from thousands of years ago. Skyfire wasn’t the kind of person who was selfish. She was the kind of person who sacrificed things for other people. Who took the high road.

Starscream wasn’t that kind of person. But just once, for Skyfire, she’d tried to be.

They’d had a fight on their last night together, after Skyfire asked Starscream why she wouldn't come to Greenland with her.

“I don’t understand. Don’t I make you happy?”

“Skyfire, no one makes me happy like you do. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?“

“I want more from life than just being _happy._ I want to _do_ something. To be someone people know.”

“Star, that’s not a good road to go down.”

“Why? What’s so wrong with that? What’s wrong with wanting power?”

Skyfire was giving her a worried look. “If you start just--cracking eggs left and right, you can rationalize anything, even things that are _wrong_ , Star. No matter what. It’s how you get people doing horrible things.”

“Skyfire, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. There are no good people and there are no bad people. There are only people who can get shit done and people who can’t. And I want to be one of the people who can.”

Skyfire shook her head. “Is this about your parents? Because you know they would have been proud of you no matter what--”

“Goddamnit, why don’t you get it? I’m not doing this for my parents, or for Skywarp, or for you or for anyone. I’m doing it for _me_. I’m doing it because this is what _I_ want. I _know_ what it is that I want.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Starscream knew that Skyfire understood, and she almost wished that she didn’t, that she could somehow reverse time. “Star...do you want me to go to Ohio with you?”

 _Yes._ “You should go to Greenland. Go and be extraordinary. And do it for yourself, Skyfire. Don’t think about what I want.”

Skyfire had brushed her hair out of her face, wiping away the tears on her face that she didn’t know were there. “I love you, Star.”

“I love you too.” She squeezed Skyfire’s hand. “That’s why I’m not asking you to stay.”

“--Miss?” Starscream looked up to see a smiling airplane steward with a tray. “Can I interest you in one of our signature cocktails?”

She shook her head. “Get me a coffee.” It wouldn’t do to be hungover on her first day, no matter how much she could use the numbing agent right now.

* * *

Her client won. And the next one, and the one after that. Between elections she lobbied for Vos Airlines, memorizing the layout of the flat, humid capital city and the different people who lived in it and working on her own plan to run for office. She read every scientific paper Skyfire published--about the new microorganisms who lived at the bottom of icebergs, the potential cures that could be engineered for rare diseases, how the crystal structure of ancient ice formations could be used to decode the mysteries of the Ice Age. They were good, but she didn’t expect anything different from Skyfire.

Occasionally she saw Megatron, now a senator, when she was working on the hill, although their paths never crossed directly. Whenever the older woman was in a room, it was like gravity moved, like every other person was pulled towards her by some impossible to avoid force. Starscream had written hundreds of pages about Megatron’s use of rhetoric as a university student but seeing her speak in person was something different.

After she won her fourth race, _Teen Vogue_ did an interview and photo shoot at her San Francisco apartment, and a month later her own face was grinning out from the cover with the words “Rising Star.” 

People started looking at her when she visited the Hill. Really looking at her, with something like respect and admiration in their eyes. No one asked her if she was lost when she walked into meetings or rolled their eyes when they thought she wasn’t looking.

And then she got an email from Linkedin informing her of a job opportunity: campaign manager to reelect the senator from Texas. She sent her resume in, not really thinking anything of it--there were hundreds of applicants. But a week later, she had another email, this one from Soundwave, informing her that she should come in for an interview that Friday.

“You have to go, Screamer. You _have_  to, come on! This is your dream job.” Skywarp sounded out of breath, which made Starscream think her sister had called her from the gym.

“No, my dream job is to _be_ an elected official. I’m tired of managing campaigns and running errands for other politicians.”

“Even if this one is over six feet and has an authoritative yet deeply charismatic presence?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, ‘Warp.”

“Really? Because I got it from you. Two years ago, when you were drunk at our New Year’s Eve party.”

Starscream’s face heated up so quickly she was worried she might fry some of her brain cells. She took a too-big gulp of her iced white chocolate mocha to compensate and nearly choked. “I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, hold on. Think about it as a career move. You could get an endorsement from her when you run, right? And that would be easier than trying to get one from Senator Prime, who you agree with on almost nothing. Think about a quote from her on your campaign website. A photo of the two of you shaking hands.” It was a good picture, but she wasn’t going to tell her sister that. “You’re not talking, that means you like it.”

“Shut up, Skywarp.”

“Just go for the fun of it, if nothing else! Go and then call me and TC and tell us how much it sucked.”

“You just want me to embarrass myself.”

“You do a good job of that without my help.”

“Fine! I’ll go, and I’ll kick ass, and then I won’t tell you _anything_ about it.”

She could hear her sister cracking up as she hit the “end call” button.

Even though the tersely worded email she’d gotten ended with a very explicit order to show up on time, she wound up waiting, trying not to anxiously fidget or eat too many of the individually wrapped honeycombed peanuts that sat on the side table in a ceramic bowl. By the time the stone-faced woman who followed Megatron around everywhere was gesturing for her to come into the senator’s office she’d decided that she wouldn’t take the job, that there was no way in hell she’d ever take the job. If she even got it.

And then Megatron looked at her. Megatron looked directly at her and _saw_ her, and she was lost. 

She got the job, and in six months she was chief of staff to the new Senate Majority Whip, and she and Megatron were, well...

Starscream promised herself she wouldn't want the older woman. Then she promised herself she wouldn't care about her. Finally, she promised she wouldn't love her. 

And when she was lying awake at night next to Megatron in her Senate hideaway after an animated "strategy discussion," tracing over a bullet scar on the senator's shoulder as the older woman softly breathed in and out, she wasn't sure how many of those promises she'd broken. 

* * *

“So.” Megatron folded her hands on the antique desk, her voice calm and icy. “Walk me through what happened again.”

Starscream forced down the impulse to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t improve the current situation. “I don’t know why I need to, you saw the video--”

“Starscream, this is perhaps the absolute worst time for your attitude. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“To be fair, Senator, it wasn’t _my_ idea to play chicken with the debt ceiling. I did say it wouldn’t end well, and you told me to shut up.” She noticed her boss’s knuckles go white and tried to offer a conciliatory smile. “Um, but to be fair, telling the vice president to go fuck herself might not have been the best idea. I am willing to admit, that’s on me. Completely.”

Megatron was giving her what she’d dubbed The Look--the one that meant she was probably weighing why exactly Starscream was still on her payroll. She'd gotten it at least once a day in the six years they'd worked together. “You’re an idiot, Starscream.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean, even for you, this is really--” The Look vanished, replaced by the probing stare that always made her nervous because it meant that her boss was putting the puzzle pieces together. “What did Ironhide say to you?”

“Nothing _you_ haven’t said before.”

“You’re lying. What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

“Starscream.” The warning was clear in her voice.

“Nothing, I swear. She wasn’t even expecting it to be me.” She tried to keep her voice level, but she could hear the resentment there. And if she could, there was no doubt that Megatron could hear it too.

“Ah.” The majority leader leaned back in her chair, satisfied. “Did she tell you this?”

Starscream stared fixedly at the framed pen on Megatron’s desk. “She said she thought she’d be discussing the debt ceiling with someone important.” Megatron was silent, waiting for her to finish. “Not a glorified secretary.”

“So she baited you.”

She glared at her boss. “It wasn’t like I didn’t know what she was doing. I just--”

“You took the bait anyway. Like an amateur.”

“I’m _not_ an amateur!”

Megatron stood, walking around the desk to pour herself a drink. Starscream didn’t meet her eyes, although she took the thick-bottomed glass of scotch when Megatron held it out to her.

“Starscream, when I took office no one believed someone like me deserved to be here. Do you know what I did? I made them see me.” She moved behind Starscream, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing, sending an electric shock down her spine. “I grabbed every single one of them by the throats and I forced them to _listen_. I didn’t wait for them to give me what I deserved, I _took_ it. Ironhide will never think you deserve to be here. Most people won’t. And I’m not going to tell you that you do. _You_ have to believe it.” Her voice was close to Starscream’s ear now, low and meaningful. “You _take_ it.”

She nodded, her heart beating so fast she swore Megatron would be able to hear it. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I do. Megatron.”

The older woman kissed her lightly on the cheek, short nails pricking along the side of her neck. “Good. Now finish your drink and go fix this. Or you’re fired.”

* * *

 Her hand didn’t shake at all as Shockwave swore her in and they held their smiles for the flashing cameras. She wondered what the photos would look like on the news websites that afternoon, if her Louboutins gave her enough extra inches.

Skywarp hugged her before she could dodge it, laughing when she sighed in annoyance.

“Don’t wrinkle my suit, idiot.”

“You look great, Screamer.”

“Can you— ” She ducked Thundercracker’s attempted hug. “I told you two to be cool!”

“It’s a ceremony! You’re supposed to have fun.”

“That’s for the audience. You two are operators now. Go work the room.”

Skywarp hugged her again, and she could hear her perfectly starched cherry-red suit crunch, just as another camera went off.

She tried to smooth out her lapels as Skywarp grabbed a journalist and began to gush about California’s new technology developments. A hand squeezed her shoulder and she turned to see the majority leader. Megatron was still taller than her, even when she wore her highest heels, but she didn’t mind, not today. Not after she’d just taken the congressional oath of office. The older woman leaned closer to her, tilting her head so they were shielded from any curious evesdroppers.

“You’ve done well, Starscream.”

She met her eyes. “I know.”

_I know._

**Author's Note:**

> *pflag mom voice* I love my lesbian daughter!!  
> The title is from Janelle Monáe's song "Faster," which, like "Django Jane," references Transformers, specifically Megatron and Starscream. It's a very Starscream song. (all the titles for the series are from Janelle Monáe songs because she's the patron goddess of this AU) The other song that would work with this fic is "Wait For It" from Hamilton because my favorite characters are all the same fucking person.  
> If you're interested in how the job interview and the rest of the campaign went I did write a fic about it called "Let's get caught downtown in the whirlwind," which is also in this series. (One other thing I learned while writing this fic--Senate hideaways are a thing! You get a secret office if you're a senator. I can't believe Ted Cruz gets a hideaway, he doesn't deserve one.)  
> And did y'all see Bumblebee? Because wow.


End file.
